Vengeance
by allg0nemadd
Summary: Snape hated James, and he hates Harry. So why is it he can't seem to break the sexual tension? Harry has questions, and finds solace in Snape. Dark themes, taboo subjects. NOT a love story. Harry/Snape, James/Snape; yaoi; ADULT CONTENT.
1. Chapter 1

**The Obligatory Spiel**: _All characters belong to their respective creators; I am only playing with them. Thanks for reading, and as always, R&R!_

_**WARNING: **__This fic contains adult content. But if you didn't want it, you wouldn't have clicked! Don't read if the pairing(s) offend you._

**Vengeance**___  
_

A single pearl of sweat dripped from his hot temple to the rough stone floor. Severus' knees dug into the rock and were starting to go numb. The spraying water of the shower sounded against naked skin, interrupted by intermittent grunts and sighs. His eyes were squeezed shut; he could almost see stars. He wondered how much longer he would be subject to this submissive position.

The steam rose around the two bodies, clogging Severus' nose and lungs and making his head dizzy. He found it difficult enough to breath as he performed the task he'd become so hopelessly responsible for. James' hands twisted through his damp black hair, making sure his head stayed exactly where he wanted it. James' breathing increased and he began to grunt. Severus gripped his calves for support and could feel them tighten. _It wouldn't be long now._

…

"I have Quiddich" James rasped. He _always _said that. It was his trademark goodbye. It absolved him of all responsibility for reciprocity, and left Severus cold and shivering in the showers, his hand furiously finishing off what James had started. It didn't matter to him anyway; he didn't even like James.

As James toweled off and put his glasses back on, Severus avoided the sight of his perfect ribcage and pale, shapely arms. He cursed himself for letting James get into his head, and cursed his lower-half for responding so willingly. He lowered himself along the wall, sitting with his knees up to hide his shameful desire from James.

James turned around and threw the half-damp towel at Severus. "See you later then," he turned from Severus and put on his robe. Severus did not respond; he never did.

"And remember Snivellus," James turned, his eyes glaring. "Keep your mouth shut."

…

Severus Snape snapped the quill in half and let the pieces fall to the floor. Damn his memories. The shrill sound of laughter snapped him from his trance and he looked towards the dungeon door as about ten first-years filed in, eagerly chatting and giggling. His eyes shrank in disgust. Another year, another bunch. He always hated the start of term, but this year, a particular feeling of dread presented itself when Severus caught wind of the news: Harry Potter, The Boy-Who-Lived, was to embark on his Hogwarts career this year. Severus seethed at the thought of the _wonderful _James Potter's offspring becoming his student. What had Lily been thinking?

Snape's hands gripped his desk tightly at the thought of Lily. This was not the time, or the place. Hurriedly, he spun to face the chalkboard and drew a nub of chalk across it ferociously. It squeaked horribly and heads snapped to the front. Snape hadn't intended upon picking Harry out of the crowd, but as he turned to face his new students, it was impossible not to spot him.

Dusty brown hair, a slim smile and large green eyes behind round glasses: Snape could have recognized him anywhere. He could even see the end of a lighting-bolt scar just under his hairline. To his dismay, Snape found no traces of beautiful Lily in this boy; he was all James. He shuddered at the resemblance and felt himself beginning to sweat.

Severus' eyes lingered a bit too long on the boy, and he began to flinch under Snape's stare. Snape forced himself to tear his gaze away, and promised he would not let it fall there again. He looked to the rest of the students, recognizing only one other; the bright blonde hair and defiant sneer of a Malfoy was not hard to spot. At least there was _some_ good blood in his class.

…

The first time Severus found an opportunity to punish Harry Potter, he felt as if he had been given a priceless gift. It started off small; a simple mistake made in Potions that Snape over-dramatized the significance of. The truth was, many students had made the mistake of adding one-too-many spoonfuls of powder to their brews, but Snape had no time for the others. Instead, he lingered over Harry until he found fault with his skill, upon which he slammed his hand down on the table and glared into his innocent green eyes.

"Potter," Snape muttered coldly. "Were you not paying attention? Or do you just find it beyond your duties as the heroic savior of the Wizarding World to follow the rules?"

Harry did not instantly respond. His Weasley-friend lowered his freckled face and Hermione Granger busied herself with her own potion. Snape did not break eye-contact with the boy, no matter how much of James he saw in those eyes.

Harry finally found his voice. "I'm--I'm sorry professor," he muttered. "But I haven't any idea what I've done wrong."

Snape's lip curled and he felt an even greater anger with Harry's defiance. "Twenty points," he spat, "from Gryffindor. And you will stay after class to fix your mistake."

Harry's expression did not alter. Ron Weasley sighed at the point-loss, but otherwise made no attempt to defend his friend. Snape gave one last glare to further prove his authority, and then moved back to the front of the classroom. He knew not what he intended to do to the boy, but if he was to endure the next seven years with Harry Potter, he would have to make it work somehow. He had endured at least four under James' relentless torture; he was owed vengeance.

Soon, Severus found it hard _not _to punish Harry. It did not help that as Harry spent more time with Snape, he began to get braver. He talked back and argued almost willingly, and Severus found more and more of James in his demeanor. But this time, Snape would _not _be the victim.

…

"Keep your mouth shut, Potter," Snape echoed the words Harry's dad had spoken to him years ago. He wondered if Harry felt the pain, the longing and the embarrassment. His arms were casually crossed over his naked abdomen, and his head was turned to the side nonchalantly, but Snape knew he would break; he always did.

Snape moved to his favourite chair in the great dungeon and sat upon the red velvet. Harry followed his movements, disdain on his face.

"I'd like to leave now," Harry grunted.

_The game was on._

"Just like your father," Snape growled. "Always in a hurry to be nowhere at all."

Harry's eyes grew fierce and he uncrossed his arms. "It's been three months," Harry said. "And all you've told me about my parents is how rotten they were."

"That's really all there is to tell, I'm afraid," Snape brought his hand to his forehead pensively. "Besides, I have your word."

Harry's lip quivered. Snape noticed how grown-up he had actually become in his fifth-year. He was much stronger than his father, already, and had already seen and done so much more. By comparison, fifteen-year-old James was insignificant. Snape could wait no longer.

"Now, Potter!" He shouted, sitting up in the chair. Harry still looked defiant, but shook his head and moved forward.

Snape separated his robes as Harry lowered himself to his knees. _How the roles have reversed, _marveled Snape. The boy looked angry, disdainful and tortured, and Snape felt himself hardening. He closed his eyes gently as cold fingers wrapped themselves around his erection.

He could see James; it was always James. Tears ran down his young cheeks and his characteristic sneer was completely wiped from his face. Snape was the one puffing out his chest and pulling James' hair. Snape said when it was over. Snape was completely in charge. Yes, this is how it _should _have been. With a shudder, before Harry had scarcely enough time to warm his hand, Snape jerked and grunted, completely taken over the edge.

The boy followed out his duties, still scowling, but with a hint of satisfaction in his young eyes and, as Snape delightfully noticed, a hardening in his jeans. It was a desire Snape intended to leave unfulfilled, just as James would have done. But something else was playing with Snape's consciousness; something he couldn't quite understand, but it was making it very hard for him to resist exploring more of Harry Potter than just his hands.

Before he could give it more thought, Snape stood from the chair and looked down on the boy. Harry kept his head bowed and wiped his hands on his jeans.

"Occlumency is over," Snape muttered. "Don't be late tomorrow."

With that, he spun around quickly, his robes brushing past Harry's frowning face.


	2. Chapter 2

_Though I usually hate including A/N's, it has become necessary for this story. This chapter is entirely Harry's POV, and hopefully will clear up misconceptions that Snape is "raping" him. Though I typically don't have inhibitions about implying rape in my stories, rarely will I write something in which the lesser-character is completely non-compliant. It's more of a dominance thing. Also, Harry is fifteen; yes, he's a minor, but honestly people... you can't write fics with these characters and expect them to be completely perfect under God. It's just not the point of fanfiction. If my story bothers you, simply quit reading it. I don't need reviews telling me how it's not for you.--Cheers, jW_

**Chapter II**

Harry saw Snape's memories. He wasn't sure how it happened, but he was sure he was living in Snape's head. Somehow, this week's Occlumency lesson had gone wrong. Snape was young, just as he was. He was being tortured and harassed by a group of boys Harry found disconcertingly familiar. The scene flashed too soon for Harry to take much in, and he was next transported to a more recent memory. Snape was pacing his office, fear plain on his face. He kept glancing to his desk, where a document with Dumbledore's signature was unrolled. He then stopped pacing and drew up his sleeve, his eyes curling in a grimace. Harry saw a dark patch on his wrist, but knew what it was instantly. The Dark Mark.

_Snape was a Death Eater._

Harry felt a tug at his consciousness and was soon crashing back to earth until he was lying on the stone floor, his head throbbing where he must have struck it. His brain was jumbled, and he had trouble separating reality from fantasy. Snape stood above him, his face dreadful with anger. He tried to mumble an apology, but fell unconscious as Snape's face became a blur of black and white.

…

Harry trembled in his sleep, but no matter how hard he tried, he could not open his eyes our rouse himself from his dreams. The Dark Lord stood in front of him, pale and malevolent. He was grinning. Harry felt his wand in his hand like an extension of his body; he had grown quite familiar with these encounters. They were the same every night. A flash of bright green burned his pupils and sent him flying backwards into a headstone. When the smoke abated and he opened his eyes, Cedric Diggory was dead and the Dark Lord was laughing. It was to this cackle that Harry usually woke, sweating and screaming, to a dark bedroom.

His bedclothes were twisted around him, damp with sweat and hot from his body. Gasping for air, Harry reached towards the nightstand for his glasses. He heard rustling next to him and Ron rolled over with a grunt. He had obviously grown accustomed to being woken by Harry's night terrors.

Slipping on his glasses, Harry illuminated his wand and pulled the covers up over himself. He curled up next to the glow as if it were the last source of light on earth. His breathing slowed as he watched the light pulse gently. He felt foolish, almost sixteen and still needing a nightlight after a bad dream. As soon as his heart stopped pounding, he put out the light and stuffed his wand back under his pillow.

His thoughts meandered through the usual field of troubles--exams, assignments, friends--until they stopped at the very end, where they always seemed to get tangled. He tried to push Professor Snape's face out of his mind, but it became central. What made it more addictive was the fact that whenever Harry's thoughts turned to Snape, they always were as far away from Lord Voldemort as he could possibly make them. Perhaps that is why he kept returning, week after week, day after day, until Snape no longer had punishments for him and he no longer had anything to do wrong.

After the previous day's Occlumency lesson, Harry felt a particular interest for his potions teacher. Something about Snape's revealed memories was familiar to him, and he felt he had more in common with Snape than he thought. Though Snape was never famous, and didn't seem to have friends, there was a certain darkness in him that Harry couldn't help but feel he was now radiating. He was an outcast to many, and a hero to others.

He realized the perversions of his dealings with Snape, and knew that Snape was using him, but he could not detach. His seething hatred for the man had changed over the years, until he found himself finding ways to get in trouble, to be punished. The punishments changed too; he went from writing lines to enduring minor jinxes, to more physical labor that he was not supposed to enjoy, but was realizing he did. Perhaps it was the taboo of it all; in a world-gone-awry it was a fitting source of rebellion and pleasure. Since the return of The Dark Lord, Harry felt like he had very little to fear, or lose.

As he tried to squeeze his eyes shut hard enough to wipe away all his musings, he found he could only concentrate on his potions professor, and the intensity he felt for his secret life with Snape. Snape had even promised to tell Harry things about his parents, and Harry knew Snape was close to Voldemort, though he knew not for better or worse. Either way, he felt he had many things to find out, and Snape was a key to his locked life.

…

"I think I have more in common with Snape than I would like," Harry said to Ron over breakfast. Truthfully, he enjoyed the fact that he was not the only one in Hogwarts whom nobody trusted.

"How do you mean?" Ron said, his mouth full of toast.

"Well," Harry began. "Nobody really knows whether or not we're good or bad, and nobody wants to believe us."

"Of course you're good, Harry!" Ron said. "If anyone in this castle is on His side, it's Snape."

"Well it might as well be me, this year at least," Harry spat. "After that article…"

"Harry, forget it," Ron said. "Nobody believes Rita Skeeter."

"Then why is everybody avoiding me?" Harry said.

Ron did not reply, and Harry nodded as he stood. "Exactly. Snape's not the only one with a questionable past. I could be just as bad as him, if not worse. At least Snape wasn't touched by The Dark Lord."

Harry was out of the dining hall before Ron had time to respond. He wanted to talk to someone, but not Ron or Hermione. He wanted the truth, and he only knew of one person who might be able to help him, or to understand him. Unfortunately, Harry had no idea how to get close to Snape in any other way but the one. Still, he felt it worth a try.

…

Ron's foot was tapping annoyingly against the floor, and Harry was four seconds away from shoving him off his chair. Instead, he squeezed his palms tight and checked the clock across the room again. It was taking far too long.

"Uh, I think I've had enough studying for one night," Harry said, raising himself from the common's couch and snapping shut his books.

Hermione cast him a perplexed, judgmental glance. "You've only been studying for a half-hour," she said plainly. "Haven't you got an exam tomorrow?"

Harry shrugged as he stepped over Ron to get to the staircase. "Yeah, but--I'll cram-study tomorrow."

Hermione made sure he caught her last scowl, and mumbled something about his lack of focus, before Harry could no longer see or hear his friends.

The dormitory was chilly after being next to the fire, and he shivered in his long-sleeved shirt. He tiptoed to his bed so as to not wake Neville, who went to bed early almost every night. His snoring was the only sound in the dormitory, until Hedwig realized Harry was in the room and awoke with a disgruntled hoot. He shushed her as he hurriedly stacked his pillows under his sheets and charmed them to imitate the sound of snoring.

He then got on his knees and reached under his bed until he felt the slick, cool fabric under his fingers. Slowly, he pulled out his invisibility cloak. Glancing towards the door, and once more at the clock, Harry enveloped himself in the cloak and descended back down the stairs.

…

His palms were sweating, but the dungeon was ice-cold. Slowly he pulled his shirt over his head and let it drop to the floor. His eyes were glued to the stone, and he would only raise his eyes if told to. It was part of the "game". Harry feigned reluctance, and Snape only got more forceful.

Currently, Snape's back was turned and he was looking over something on his desk. Harry stood, half-naked, in the cold, holding back any anxiousness or desire that might show through his placid façade. A drip sounded repeatedly from somewhere in the room, and Harry could smell plants and powders from the earlier lessons of the day. At night, the dungeon was hardly part of Hogwarts at all.

"On your knees, Potter," Snape said solemnly.

Harry waited for him to turn before glaring, then lowering himself to the stone floor. Snape's eyes followed him, his brows rising almost unnoticeably. Harry saw, from his peripheral vision, Snape advancing towards him. Snape's robes were soon obstructing his vision completely, and he lowered his eyes to his jeans.

The point of a wand stubbed his chin and he felt his head being slowly raised. Snape, dramatic and dark, glared down at him before elegantly sweeping open his robes. His fingers, which Harry found terribly difficult to not concentrate on, moved to his trousers and unbuttoned them slowly. Harry's heart was pounding now. His adjusted himself on his knees as he felt himself harden instinctively. He wanted desperately to talk to Snape, to ask him questions, to get answers. But he knew this had to come first.

…

"Professor?" Harry put his shirt back on as Snape moved to the window, as he usually did when they were finished. "I was wondering if you might have a few more moments…"


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter III**

Snape raised a curious eyebrow to Harry, but aside from that his face remained stoic. Harry hesitated in the silence and felt his heart begin to race. Even confronting the Dark Lord hadn't been this intimidating.

"Can't this wait…" Snape started coldly, "until tomorrow?"

Harry wavered. Perhaps he should wait until his lesson tomorrow. He stood with his hands in his pockets, awkward as he tried to decide what to do.

"I suppose it could Professor," Harry murmured. "It's not important really."

Snape's hard gaze still penetrated him. He wanted Snape to tell him to stay, wanted him to be curious about his problem. But no such indication came, and Harry felt the invisible force of a conversation being ended pulling him towards the door. Before he knew what he was doing or had time to change his mind, he was closing the dungeon door.

As he walked back down the hall, fuming at himself for being so weak, he resolved to stand up for himself the next day. He muttered to himself as he climbed the stairs back to the Gryffindor tower, but the light from the window caught his eye. He hadn't realized it had grown so late, or rather that it was so early. The sun was already beginning to peek through the haze.

It was only then that Harry realized, with a start, that he had walked the entire way back without his invisibility cloak. It was still in the dungeon.

…

_Harry wondered if _he _had a moment? _What could Harry Potter possibly have to say to him? They didn't even get along outside the physical interactions. Perhaps he wanted to ask more questions about his parents?

Snape almost tripped as he crossed the floor. A rumpled mass on the floor drew his attention. He lowered himself to pick it up, realizing then what it was. Harry's invisibility cloak. Or rather, James' invisibility cloak. Snape's fingers clenched the fabric and his mind flashed.

_The corridor was dark and silent and James' hands were cold. Severus shivered under his grasp. One hand grasped his hip while the other fumbled with his zipper. He could feel James' breath on the back of his neck and his pants were being lowered. James adjusted the invisibility cloak over them, and Severus was being bent forward._

"_Don't make any noise," James whispered. "We can't be seen but we can be heard."_

_Severus clenched his teeth and kept himself quiet. He always did._

Snape frowned at the cloak in his hands. He wanted to throw it in the fire and be rid of it forever. But something kept it in his hands. Slowly he moved to his desk to scribble a note on a piece of parchment.

…

By the time Harry got back into bed and fell asleep, it was already five-thirty. He slept for two hours before being shaken awake by an eager and hungry Ron. Groggily, he rose, changed his clothes and followed Ron to breakfast.

"Late night last night, Harry?" Seamus asked as Harry sat down to a plate of toast and eggs.

Harry, unaware of his disheveled appearance, shrugged. Before he could answer, Ron saved him the trouble.

"Harry went to bed early," he said. "Hardly stayed up past nine."

Seamus raised his eyebrows but went back to his pumpkin juice. Harry looked at Ron, who was engorged in his plate and didn't make eye contact. Without much interest, Harry turned to his plate and picked at the eggs.

The post arrived, as it did every morning, and Harry ignored the owls flying overhead until he recognized something white from the corner of his vision. Hedwig gracefully swooped over Harry and Ron, dropping a brown-wrapped parcel onto the table. Ron finally let his eyes leave his plate, and gazed at the package longingly.

"What is it Harry?" He asked, his mouth full.

Harry looked at the sprawling handwriting on the package. "I don't know."

Slowly he pulled the strings and let the paper fall open. Inside was his invisibility cloak, neatly folded, and a white piece of parchment. Ron looked bewildered.

"Is that another invisibility cloak?!" Ron asked, his eyes growing wide. "Can I have it Harry?"

Harry grabbed the parchment quickly, before Ron or anybody else could read it, and stuffed it in his robe pocket.

"Uh, no," he stammered. "This is mine. I left it--at Hagrid's. He must have sent it."

His lie must have pleased Ron, because he shrugged simplistically and went back to his food. Harry put the cloak under his robes and went back to his breakfast as if nothing was out of the ordinary. The usual morning conversations commenced, but Harry's mind was on the crumpled up bit of parchment in his pocket. As soon as he was out of the dining hall and away from everyone else, he fished it out of his pocket and flattened it. The script was recognizable; nobody wrote like his potions teacher.

_Potter,_

_Keep a better eye on your belongings. Don't be late this evening._

There was no signature, but there didn't need to be. Perplexed that Snape would take the time to return the cloak, Harry felt oddly important. Clutching it to himself beneath his robes, he headed back towards the Gryffindor tower to store it properly until later that evening when he would again need it.

…

"Am I destined to be like Lord Voldemort?" Harry heard the words before he even remembered saying them. He did not look up. He kept his gaze firmly at the floor, where it always stayed when he stood shirtless in front of Snape.

At first, Snape said nothing. Harry wasn't even sure he had heard, soon Snape's footsteps advanced towards him and he felt a wand on his chin. His head was raised as it usually was, but when Snape's eyes met his, they were different. He looked troubled and emotional. Harry thought he was about to be punished or chastised for speaking.

Instead, Snape muttered a single phrase. "That is to be decided."

Harry wanted to press, wanted to ask more questions, but found his gaze with Snape turning into something strange. He remembered Snape as a teenager; the silent, stoic boy he used to be still evident in his grown features. What had happened to him after those years? Harry already knew one of the reasons Snape never took off his robe was that he was hiding his Dark Mark, and he wanted to know now more than ever the connection between Snape and the Dark Lord. Dumbledore put all trust in Snape, and he always had. Was Snape tricking even the cleverest of all wizards?

Harry felt his arm moving towards Snape's. His curiosity was overcoming his fear. He brought Snape's arm up and slid the fabric of his sleeve to his elbow until he could clearly see the tattoo in all it's nefarious beauty. Snape did not resist.

"What is this?" Harry asked mildly. "You know more than you tell me. I know you do."

Snape's troubled eyes never left Harry's. Harry's hand didn't leave his arm. Soon, Snape was moving inwards. Harry didn't hesitate; it felt too appropriate. His lips met Snape's, but it was brief. Snape backed away first and tugged his arm back. He turned from Harry and walked to the safe-zone of his desk. Harry stood his ground. He realized what had just happened. He had stood up to Snape, and he had seen a side of his teacher he didn't think existed. What troubled him was that he liked it, and he found himself advancing towards Snape again, his fingers moving to unzip his jeans.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Warning!!** This chapter contains nothing but adult content between two men. Exciting, right? (Please don't read if you are easily offended by sexual content, blah blah blah)._

**Chapter IV**

Harry stood next to his professor as his jeans fell to the floor. He stepped out of them casually, but Snape had still not raised his gaze. Harry was already hardening, and felt slightly embarrassed and exposed standing next to Snape completely naked, save his socks.

"Professor," he tried, craning his neck towards Snape. "I'm sorry I brought it up. Can't we just-"

Snape turned, his eyes moving almost unnoticeably fast over Harry's naked body. He moved them back to Harry's eyes.

"No-more-talking," Snape said slowly. "Not about the Dark Lord, not about your parents."

Harry did not break eye contact. He had all but forgotten about his questions after Snape had grazed his lips. His mind was only on one thing.

"No more talking," Harry whispered, nodding once.

Snape didn't move right away. Harry knew he probably wouldn't, so he let himself move forward and his fingers take the fabric of Snape's robes. Snape let Harry pull the robe open and over his shoulders. Harry studied the long line of buttons before him. He had never seen much more of his teacher than his neck and hands, and his fingers curiously began to undo the buttons of his shirt. Snape stood still, but Harry could hear his breathing. Soon, he could see the pale skin of Snape's chest and his erection grew considerably.

His hands froze as he found himself suddenly unsure where to go next. Snape seemed to understand. Slowly he removed his own shirt, and stood before Harry in just his black trousers. Harry felt as if he were looking at a stranger; he had never seen anything but black when he was with Snape, but now he saw white-pale, bare, untouched, and oddly soft. His chest was hairless, though there was a slight trail running from his bellybutton to his zipper and, Harry remembered, quite further. Harry gazed at Snape's skin. His arms gripped his desk behind him, a vein protruding through his Dark Mark. He found himself suddenly drawn to the mark; it was on Snape, so it became instantly attractive to him.

Harry's hands traced down Snape's chest experimentally. He would have liked to have been confident and completely in control, but he knew no better than Snape what he was doing. It wasn't until he felt a hand on the back of his head that he realized Snape _did _know what he was doing, or at least what he wanted to do. He was slowly brought to Snape's chest, where he placed a single kiss before feeling foolish. Snape however, quivered slightly under his touch, and Harry was encouraged to continue. He let himself move down Snape's chest, kissing intermittently until he reached his pants.

He unbuttoned them hurriedly, already feeling Snape's desire beneath his fingers. Snape's hips arched towards him longingly, begged him to relieve his pleasurable discomfort. Harry complied, gently taking his erection in his hand. Snape exhaled and tensed; Harry noticed Snape's stomach tighten as his fingers did what they had done so many nights before. But for the first time, Harry allowed his own hand to move to his own erection, and simultaneously pleasured himself. Snape did not object, but did notice.

His dark eyes watched the boy's hand move up and down on himself slowly. It was so innocent, so simple, and so familiar. Snape hadn't realized the beauty of it when it was just himself, but as he watched Harry he found himself drawn to the solitude and intimacy of it all. Harry's young arms-now more muscular and slightly darker with hair than they had been in previous years-flexed and tightened as he did the work for both of them. His eyes dodged between his own throbbing member and Snape's. His head was tilted to the side slightly, and Snape could hear his breathing increasing as the pleasure built.

But he was not ready for it to be over.

Snape took Harry's arm gently and stopped its movement. Harry's eyes grew large and he let go of himself. Snape stood up from leaning on the desk and Harry instinctively lowered himself to his knees. Snape looked at his brown, disheveled hair longingly and remembered the feeling of his warm mouth and rough teeth, but put a finger under his chin and motioned for him to rise. Harry looked confused and rejected, but Snape led him by the arms to the chair and sat him down. Harry looked out of place in the great chair-he was usually in front of it.

Snape lowered himself to his knees before Harry and his hand wrapped around Harry's cock. Harry grunted lightly and gripped the arms of the chair. _What was Snape doing?_

"Do you trust me, Potter?" Snape said, his fingers gently playing with Harry's sensitive skin.

Harry didn't know what Snape was suggesting, but he knew he didn't care. Helplessly under Snape's power, he nodded. Snape let his eyes drop to Harry's lap for what seemed like the first time. He released his hand and Harry throbbed for its return. Snape spread Harry's legs slowly and raised them so they were on his shoulders. Harry was breathing heavily and Snape could feel him trembling. He remembered the feeling; it was the excitement of the unknown.

From a pocket of his trousers, Snape withdrew a small vile. Being a potions master had its benefits. He carefully uncapped it and let the swirling pearl liquid fall just beneath Harry's erect penis. Harry shuddered under its stimulating tingle, which Snape knew was something between a pleasurable burn and an irresistible itch. The liquid trickled downwards until it was over Harry's tight, untouched opening. Snape moved his fingers to it and gently massaged the potion around it. Harry's hips arched. Snape's free hand absently moved to his own desire and it only throbbed harder. _It won't be long now._

With the assistance of the potion and the willingness of Harry, Snape easily slid two fingers inside him. Harry grunted again and his eyebrows creased. Snape looked at his body, at the man the boy had become. There were no longer traces of James in him. He was completely different; somehow more pure, more worthy. It was with compete feeling that Snape leaned forward and kissed Harry's chest, his soft black hair falling around his face. Harry's legs wrapped around Snape's waist, and Snape knew he was ready.

Gently, Snape positioned himself in front of Harry. Harry scooted forward ever so slightly, aware and eager for what was to come. Snape's hand carefully connected his hardened cock with Harry's newly-oiled opening. Placing his arms over Harry's on the arms of the chair, he pushed himself in steadily. Harry inhaled sharply, but exhaled with a light groan. Snape shivered as he felt himself enveloped in the tightness and warmth. He felt momentarily freed; what he had longed for, needed, for so many years was finally being given to him.

He felt Harry's arms squirm beneath his grip, and knew he wanted to stroke himself, but for now Snape wanted to hold him right where he was; this time it would be about Snape. He began slowly, his hips rolling gently into Harry as he found a rhythm that pleased him. As the pleasure built with each thrust, Snape found himself speeding up, thrusting harder. Harry was silent, save for the few occasional gasps or sighs. Snape himself was beginning to breath raggedly, and a bead of perspiration was threatening to trickle down his neck.

Harry placed his still-socked feet on Snape's shoulders and his toes dug into the skin as he endured the pleasurable pain he invited upon himself. Snape found his eyes focused on the boy's erect cock, but his mouth would not reach from this position. That would have to come later.

The mere thought sent Snape closer towards the edge, and his nails dug into Harry's arms. He felt his release so near! It would finally be his…

His eyes shut instinctively, but as he closed them he could only remember himself being in the other position. It hadn't been pleasurable, though he told himself after all those encounters that it was. He had since learned. Forcing his eyes open, he looked back at Harry. His cheeks were rosy and his nose scrunched beneath his glasses. His mouth was open in a silent moan and his messy hair had only grown messier, parting directly at his scar and shooting off in a million different directions.

It was this image of the innocent but in-control boy that sent Snape to his ecstasy. With a stifled grunt, he thrust his last efforts into Harry and irrupted into a rocketing orgasm that left him motionless and trembling against Harry's warm, rising and falling chest.

He wasn't sure if it had been minutes or hours by the time he recovered, but Harry was still lying beneath him, breathing a little slower but smiling slightly. His hand was on his cock and gently massaging it, and Snape could see he had finished the job for himself, releasing himself on his chest. A slight pang of guilt washed over Snape; he had intentions of repaying the boy for his participation, but perhaps Harry hadn't realized. _There's always tomorrow night._

As his euphoria died down, Snape's authoritative personality returned and he became teacher again. He stood up and fumbled for his robes on the floor. Harry stood too, aware that the chair was no longer his. He cleaned himself up briefly before pulling his jeans and shirt back on.

Snape, fully robed and tucked back into his pants, turned to Harry and gave him the cold stare he was most comfortable using. He ignored the rosy afterglow that was still present on the boy's face, and tried to forget the feeling of his soft skin beneath his lips.

"Very well, Potter," Snape said simply. "That's enough for today."


	5. Chapter 5

**_Warning_**: _This chapter contains sexual content of the less-yummy sort; dubcon, mention of blood, and James being not so nice. If you're sensitive to this, please read no further._

**Chapter V**

"What is it with you, Harry?" Ron frowned. "You're not like yourself."

"What do you mean?" Harry replied, sipping his pumpkin juice hastily. "I feel fine."

Ron shrugged, but Hermione leaned forward. "What Ron means to say is you've seemed-different today. You're talking faster than you usually do, you've had quite a large appetite, and you _smiled _at Colin Creevey just a moment ago. That's not like you."

"And you were all bubbly when you woke me up this morning," Ron mumbled. "Bit off-putting, really. Nobody should be that happy in the morning."

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. I just feel good today."

Hermione and Ron exchanged glances and resumed staring at Harry across the table. But Harry's gaze was moving past them to the Slytherin table. Draco Malfoy was looking at him strangely. It wasn't as if Draco ever looked at Harry pleasantly, but something in his expression told Harry that Draco was keeping a secret.

"We have Quidditch practice this afternoon, you know," Ron said to Harry. "You can't miss again. You're Seeker!"

"Yeah, I don't plan to," Harry mumbled, his gaze still locked with Malfoy's. "Um, I'll be back."

Harry got up from the table and walked down the long dining hall. He hoped Draco would take the bait and follow. He turned into the boy's lavatory and moved to the sink, glancing into the mirror. His hair was disheveled as usual, but his face was glowing more that it usually did. Harry felt his cheeks and forehead, convinced he'd come down with a fever. As he pondered his expression, a blonde head peeked in the door behind him. He met Draco's eyes in the reflection of the mirror and turned. Draco moved inside and locked the door behind him, stepping slowly towards Harry.

"Potter!" He spat, his face curling into its usual snarl. "You're all smiles this morning. Have a long night last night?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Harry's hand instinctively moved towards his wand in his pocket.

"How _are_ your lessons with Professor Snape going? Occlemency is not the easiest of subjects to learn…" Draco taunted.

"That's none of your business, Malfoy," Harry said coldly. "And I doubt you came all the way in here to talk to me about lessons."

Malfoy smiled; an unsettling and malicious look for him. "I just found myself curious as to why any student would need to take lessons well-past the bedtime hour. You know you're not supposed to walk the corridors alone at night."

"Unless you were doing it as well," Harry started, "I don't know how you would know I was doing it."

"Because I've watched you, Potter!" Draco shouted. "I've watched you ever night since the first night I saw you skitter by like a rat in the dark. I know now that you've been using your invisibility cloak, but the night I saw you, you were completely visible. I almost went to a teacher, before I realized it was Snape you were with. I only wonder why he would approve of such behaviour."

Harry's hand was now firmly on his wand's hilt. He didn't know what to tell Malfoy, but if he had to make a quick getaway, he knew a few spells.

"I think it's none of your business," Harry said again. "You know nothing about Occlemency or how long it takes to learn."

"It's not just that," Draco shook his head. "I've noticed the way Snape treats you in class. You're no longer his enemy, and I'm no longer his favourite. I don't know what you're doing but it has to be mind-altering enough that even an intelligent man like Snape starts to like you."

Harry clenched his teeth and thought about leaving, but Malfoy was efficiently blocking the door. Instead, he remained silent, hoping Draco would get bored and give up his interrogation. Contrarily, he only pried harder.

"What are you doing to him, Potter?"

"I'm not doing anything,' Harry said, partially in truth as he recalled Snape's "aggressions" of the previous night. "We're simply getting along better now that I'm studying personally with him."

Draco looked like he had sucked a lemon, but could not come up with anything else to say, and instead took out his wand and aimed at Harry. Harry raised his in equal time and they stood in front of each other posed for battle. The fury in Draco's eyes was evident, but before he had time to utter a curse, the bathroom door flew open.

Severus Snape stood on the other side, surrounded by a few first-year boys that all looked anxiously into the bathroom. Snape observed his students, wands up and frowning, and his expression grew dour.

"What," he started sternly, "ever gave either of you the idea that you could lock the bathroom door to practice spells you are _clearly _using unsafely?"

Harry and Draco stood silently but both put their wands away. Snape gave them each a stern look, his lip protruding slightly. He glanced down to the first years and motioned in the door. Intimidated, they entered the bathroom, casting Harry and Draco looks. Harry and Draco however, were now being led out of the bathroom by Snape. Once in the hall, he released his hands from their robes and pointed at them.

"One more offense like this from you, Potter," he growled. "And fifty points will be taken from Gryffindor."

Draco sneered slightly, casting Harry a sideways glance with his green eyes.

"And you," Snape turned his finger to Draco. "As Head of House, I'm disappointed you would tarnish the integrity of Slytherin. If you're not fit for this House, I can always make other arrangements."

Harry could tell this was a bluff, and not enough of a punishment in his opinion, but he didn't care. He could no longer be angry with Snape and was, in fact, eagerly hoping his teacher would have a moment for him after Draco left. Unfortunately, after reprimanding them, Snape turned and made off in the other direction, his cloak billowing around his quickly-moving heels.

Draco turned to Harry with his sour expression. "I'll be watching, Potter."

"I'll look forward to it, Malfoy," Harry replied as Draco marched off after Snape.

Alone in the hallway, Harry let his heart rate calm. Snape had barely cast him any glances, let alone talked to him in any other way than to punish him. Of course he had to maintain his status outside of their nightly meetings, but the fact that it seemed he didn't even matter to Snape was gut-wrenching. Sighing, Harry turned his thoughts instead to the evening. He only had to make it through a few classes, Quidditch practice and dinner, then he would be in that happy little place beneath the dungeons, save under Snape's soft chest and long hair.

…

Snape took an inhaling breath, placed the tip of his wand to his temple, and let the memory run free.

"_Get on your knees, Snivellus," James said huskily, opening his robe and shaking it off. He hastily threw it across the room. _

_Severus kneeled slowly. The carpet was dusty and old; it must have been years since the classroom had last been used. James moved towards him, his hand grasping his partially-standing cock. Slowly he began to rub it, massaging it to a full stand with mild grunts and sighs. Severus tried not to look, but his eyes couldn't wander anyplace else. He felt his own member begin to tighten, and he hated himself for it. _

_James was now ready, and placed his hand around Severus' head. Severus didn't need instructions. Slowly he began his performance, starting by sliding his hand up and down James' hardened, blushing cock. He loved the feeling of it--the softness and the firmness, the warmth, the fragility. He had never found himself so appealing or beautiful, and in fact most times resisted looking at himself even partially naked. But as he kneeled in front of James and observed his smooth skin, flat stomach, bare pelvis and full erection, he saw only beauty. _

_If only James treated him better…_

"_Oh," James pulled Snape in closer; his queue. Severus inhaled and took James in his mouth. It had hardly been a minute before James was pushing Severus away. Confused, he looked up from his subservient position._

"_I changed my mind, Snivellus," James said. "Get up."_

_Snape stood slowly, shivering in the coldness of the room. He halfheartedly noticed snowflakes beginning to float down the windows. _

"_Over here," James walked to a nearby desk, the only piece of furniture in the deserted classroom. It was covered in papers that James carelessly swept onto the floor. Snape followed, covering his half-erection with his wrists and hands. "Get up."_

_Snape stood momentarily, unsure if he'd heard right. "On the desk?"_

"_Of course. Where else? Get up!" James said. _

_Severus moved slowly towards the desk, inching his bottom over the edge until he was sitting on it. _

"_No, no. Get on it. On your hands and knees," James said, hopping up next to him. _

_Severus swung his legs up onto the desk and did as he was told. He had an inkling where he was going, but was not prepared for the feeling of James hands on his upper legs, spreading his cheeks as he positioned himself behind Severus. He was less prepared for the gripping sting of James entering him. He gasped aloud but was barely given a moment to acclimate to the sensation before James was holding him steady as he thrust. _

_It didn't take long. Almost as soon as it had started, it was over. James grunted and tugged at Severus' hips, and then left him. Severus felt as if he'd been side-swept by a great wave and made it out swimming. Adrenaline ran through his limbs and his head pounded. As James got off the desk , Snape longed for him to return. His cock was still hard and he imagined how marvelous it must have felt to be in James' position. Though his newly-ripped opening burned, he found himself turned on by the whole affair. He knew he should feel guilty. He should feel furious with James for what he did. But instead, he felt invigorated by the attention. No one had ever been closer to him._

"_Are you going to stay up there all day?" James asked Severus as he walked to where he threw his robe._

_Severus got down from the desk and stood, waiting for James to make up his usual excuse for leaving. But none came. Instead, James nodded at Severus, cracked a half-smile and turned to the door._

"_Oh," James stopped suddenly and turned, taking out his wand. "Turn around."_

_Severus was puzzled, but obeyed. James uttered a spell and Severus suddenly felt a cooling, soothing tingle wash over his lower body. He shivered instinctively and all the pain he had felt moments before faded. _

"_That should help with the blood as well," James said as he turned back around. Severus watched him leave, desperately wishing with his eyes that he would stay, just once, to finish what he had started. _

Snape felt the last strands of the memory slip from his mind and into his wand. Like pulling out a hair, held the strand up in front of him above a prepared vial marked "To Harry". As he looked at the silvery wisps, remembering all they contained, he thought about Harry. Did he truly deserve to know the truth about his father? It surely meant an end to everything Severus shared with him. But it was for the best…

As Snape brought his wand to the vial and let the memory flow into it, he remembered Harry's face: peaceful, happy, flushed and content, but also young and innocent. He remembered the sound of his heart beating when he had placed his head on his chest. He remembered his messy hair and slightly askew glasses, the smell of his robes, the feeling of his hands: warm and firm.

The cork was now in the bottle, and Severus held it like a poison. His eyebrow quivered slightly as he looked at the vial's murky contents. He cursed himself.

With a single, swift motion, he flung the vial across the room. It burst against the stone wall, bits of glass tinkling to the floor and the memory evaporating to dust.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** _This one's got adult content. Thanks for all the faves and reviews, and of course, for reading!_

Draco Malfoy paced the green carpet in front of the great fireplace. His mind seethed with the thought of his favourite professor taking a new liking to his worst enemy. The thought made him sick, though he couldn't say exactly why. Harry Potter was invading his territory, to say the least. Draco would tell his father about everything. But what could have changed in the first place? Draco stopped in front of the fire, frowning into the flames. Could Harry have hexed Snape?

A mirror stood above the fireplace, and Draco's pale eyes met his reflection. The flame flickered in his pupils as the corners of his mouth curled into a sly sneer. The solution was simple. He would have to follow Potter during one of his nightly "Occlemency" lessons. Without an invisibility cloak, it was to be hard.

Draco turned to the couch. His book bag was open; his robe thrown over it haphazardly. His black and green robes should be enough to hide him in the darkness of the corridors. The light outside the window was dimming, and Draco estimated he had a few more hours before Potter would be making his way to the Potions Master's dungeon.

…

The painting of the Fat Lady slid quietly aside, and Harry Potter emerged. Draco straightened, having almost fallen asleep slumping against a pillar waiting for Potter. Harry quietly tiptoed down the stairs towards Draco, pulling his invisibility cloak over himself. Holding his breath, Draco watched as Potter walked right past him and on down the hall. When he was safely out of hearing distance, Draco followed quietly.

The chase was hard with Harry's invisibility, but Draco knew he would catch up with him soon enough in the dungeon. He had a plan, but he was apprehensive. If anything went wrong, he would be in as much trouble as Harry, if not more. Snape might not even stand up for him in this instance.

Luckily, Draco caught a break. As he reached the dungeon door, he saw Harry slipping off the invisibility cloak. A sliver of light spread across the dark hallway as Harry opened the door. Draco moved forward slowly, putting his wand in the door just as Harry closed it. It did not latch, and Harry hadn't seemed to notice it didn't close. Draco sighed, feeling perspiration form on his brow.

Kneeling, he peeked through the keyhole. Harry had dropped his invisibility cloak just next to the door, and was now walking into the room. Snape stood next to his desk and was saying something to Harry. The view was hardly impressive, but Draco didn't think he'd be able to obtain the cloak from this position. He would be spotted for sure.

As he watched, Harry pulled his sweater off. Draco's eyes grew large and he almost fell into the door as he strained to catch everything that was going on. Was Snape going to punish Harry? Snape was only standing; his hand was nowhere near his wand. Puzzled, Draco scarcely blinked as he watched Harry.

He was fiddling with something in front of him, and it wasn't until his belt came out that Draco realized he was removing his pants. His eyebrows creased and he frowned, but as Harry's pants fell to the floor, Draco's eyes softened. Unable to look away, Draco blushed at Harry in his more natural state. Something about his naked body made Draco feel queasy, as if he would faint from his pounding heart.

He tore his eyes away and looked at the floor. He felt ill. What was Harry Potter doing naked in front of Snape? Draco knew he should leave, but he was unable to make himself. Instead, he justified staying by assuming that he wouldn't be able to get Harry into trouble unless he knew exactly what was going on.

Snape was approaching Harry, muttering something that the closed door efficiently blocked. Draco swallowed, his throat tight and dry. Snape was in front of Harry, his dark eyes looking down at the nude boy in front of him. He could see lust in Snape's eyes, though he refused to believe Snape was actually enjoying Harry Potter in a sexual way. It was inconceivable!

Draco felt as if he were watching a dream. Snape's hand was on the back of Harry's head, and Harry was slowly lowering himself to the floor, his rosy skin contrasting with the black of Snape's robes. Harry's fingers were fiddling with Snape's robes, belt, pants…

Draco tore his eyes away as he realized what was going to happen. He covered his mouth in surprise, wondering just how he could prove what was going on in the dungeon during the nights. As he looked back into the keyhole, he saw Snape's eyes closed softly, his expression in utter ecstasy as Harry's head gently moved around his pelvis.

It had been minutes before Draco realized he was watching so intently. He cursed himself and tried to focus on his mission, but his mind was completely absorbed in what he was witnessing. On top of that, a pleasurable tightening in his trousers was confusing him. He had only felt the feeling after kissing girls or looking at the naughty magazines he found in Crabbe's school bag. How could the sight of his favourite teacher and his worst enemy illicit the same reaction?

Harry was now standing, and Draco hardly blinked as he turned himself around, gripping the desk, while Snape removed his robes and lowered his own trousers. Draco averted his gaze at Snape's backside, realizing with a pang of distress that it was Harry's arse that had made him tingle. He hardly had time to think further, as Snape was now behind Harry, his hand sliding down his naked back and between his legs. He produced a vial and gently dripped something down Harry's crack. Harry's head bent back as Snape's hand massaged it in, and then Snape was positioning himself behind Harry. Draco could not see Snape from the front, but he knew exactly what was happening. Snape's muscles flexed and his ass tightened as he thrust into Harry. Draco felt a lump in his throat, and without thinking, his hand was moving towards his cock, which was now throbbing with desire for attention. The sensation was too much, and he absently slid his hand into his pants to tend to it. His fingers comforted his hardness as he watched his professor have his way, but there was scarcely enough room in his pants to effectively tend to himself.

He unzipped them quietly, resolving to be quick. Sitting on his knees, Draco leaned forward to see through the peephole while his hand furiously began working his cock. From his vantage, all he could see of Harry was his legs and his arms, both strong with tensed muscles. Draco watched Harry's fingers tighten on the desk, and his own fingers tightened on his hardness. A sound was escaping from the slight crack in the door, and Draco could hear it was Harry lightly grunting.

Snape was moving quickly now, his hair becoming disheveled about his face as he leaned further over Potter. Within a few seconds, his movement stopped and he was practically leaning on Harry's back. His hand moved down Harry's arm gently until it covered Harry's hand. Draco took the gesture of affection with little consideration, as he was very close to his own climax but in no mood for sweetness.

As Snape moved from Harry and Harry turned around, Draco's eyes widened at the boy's erection. Harry was completely hard and larger than Draco would have expected, though he had never given it much consideration. His hand sped up. Harry ran a hand through his hair, making his bangs stand up straight. Draco took in his body, his motions, his face, and with a small grunt he squeezed his eyes shut as he came.

When he had recovered and opened his eyes again, Snape was dressed, his robes hanging open loosely but his pants buttoned. Harry was out of sight, and Draco panicked, thinking he was about to be caught. He backed away from the door, hiding in the shadows, but no one emerged. After a few moments, Draco returned to the keyhole. Snape was behind his desk, looking towards a far corner of the room, where Draco could only see Harry's naked arm, furiously working up and down. Draco knew the motions all too well, and realized that Harry was relieving his own pleasurable torture.

Frowning at his lack of vantage, Draco surmised that it was probably time to be going. If he were to be caught now, pants down and hands sticky, he would be in more trouble than he had ever endured. Buttoning himself up, Draco took one last peek through the keyhole and made off down the corridors, hoping Mrs. Norris and Filch had gone to bed.


End file.
